


A Kiss Under Covers

by angelwriter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Love (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Marriage (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Ancient Rome, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Episode Related, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelwriter/pseuds/angelwriter
Summary: He should be thinking about temptations and demon stuff. Not about angels and what they smell like. As Crowley waited for an answer he thinks about the softness and warmth of Aziraphale next to him. No one takes me apart. No one strips me naked like you. Crowley thinks on this for 6000 years. He is always vulnerable in Aziraphale's presence, wanting, needing, begging to be good enough for him. Demons shouldn't want to taste Heaven on an Angel's tongue.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	A Kiss Under Covers

Note: it may or may not be a reference to my fic: "Oh Darling I'm With You". I mentioned Rome in that fic but the fics are different and not in the same universe. Just felt like writing a Rome fic. 

* 

It all started in Rome. Crowley hadn't actually meant to stumble into Aziraphale that day, but then again he hadn't exactly been avoiding him during their time apart either. He kept a close eye on him throughout the centuries, watching him do miracles and spreading peace, making sure he didn't get himself into trouble. Crowley had just nipped in for a temptation. That was what he told Aziraphale. Nipped in meaning he meant to stay for a while and enjoy Rome with Aziraphale once he caught up with him. 

We all know the stories of oysters. Crowley had seen the way Aziraphale ate and indulged in the mortal vice of food. He knew Aziraphale would only eat the best produce. Truth be told, Crowley actually hadn't tried an oyster before and when Aziraphale suggested it, he was more than happy to go with his angel to try the cuisine. They sat at a round table filled with jugs of wine and fruits with a shiny bowl of oysters fresh from the sea. 

Crowley took one whiff of it and decided he would pass. He looked at Aziraphale, mouth watering and eyes dilated, and swallowed hard as if an oyster had gotten stuck down his throat. This was new. Aziraphale never looked that ravenous before. Crowley delighted in the wine while Aziraphale tasted all the things on the table. He slicked back oysters, nibbled at the grapes and drank down the wine. He was really enjoying himself. Crowley loved to watch him look so happy. 

His face was lightly flushed and his lips wet with the juices from the fruit. Crowley was thankful he started wearing glasses to cover up his eyes so Aziraphale couldn't see how he was adoring him. Something settled in his chest for which he didn't have a name for. It was affection? No. But something akin to a soft spot for the angel. They were sort of friends now. I mean Aziraphale did invite him to lunch. Did that mean he liked him? These humans had all sorts of names for feelings. The Greeks had eight or so different kinds of love. Crowley didn't think he could name them all. 

Love hadn't been named or written in verses when he had met the angel at the Wall of Eden. He didn't know what it was and still didn't. But right here and now with the angel looking so perfect, face flushed and a satisfied smile, Crowley couldn't help but feel...something. Something that had always been there, something he wasn't prepared to show. He gulped down the last of the wine in his glass and asked the angel, “where to next?” 

"Well, I had no plans for the evening. Would you like to rest for the night? I know you have found sleeping to be lovely." 

"Why haven't you tried it then?" Crowley couldn't help but tease as they made their way into the starry night. 

"I would rather sit and read if I'm honest. Sleep takes away the hours I could do something else." 

"Hm." 

They stopped outside the inn and Crowley shifted from foot to foot, suddenly feeling really woozy. Must be the drinks. Aziraphale paid the inn keeper and helped Crowley up the stairs. Crowley's eyes popped out of his head at the sight of the single bed. Sensing his distress, Aziraphale added, "they had only one room, dear. I'm sorry." 

Dear. Crowley felt really sick now. 

"S’alright..." 

"I'll just be writing this paperwork to head office. Nero took well to the influence of music and the arts. You can go right to sleep. I won't disturb you." 

Crowley slipped under the covers and as soon as his head hit the pillow he closed his eyes. He really was tired. He could fall asleep so easily. But then there was this warm glowing angel next to him. How was he supposed to sleep? His thoughts were flying around in his head and he thought it must be the alcohol that made him think these things. Think about how he wanted to touch him. How he craved to feel his hands in his hair. Oh he wanted. More than he should. Definitely more than a demon should for an angel. 

This was wretched. It really was. A demon wanting to feel an Angel's skin on theirs. Just a little touch, Crowley can imagine it. It must be so smooth and soft. He can feel it now in the twitch in his fingers, the ineffable ache to reach out and grab. He wanted to know the valleys and curves of Aziraphale's shape. His plush belly a fine pillow to lay on. Crowley ground his teeth together, tightened his jaw and clenched his fists in the sheets. He pretended to be asleep most of the night so he could hear the faint scratch of ink on paper, the slight murmurs of Aziraphale trying to word a sentence, the soft breathing and little wiggle as he sat up in bed. He knew now the exact weight of Aziraphale on the bed. He knew the colour of his hair when morning broke and the way it was brighter somehow than any radiant light. 

Crowley shut his eyes. He squeezed so tightly, hoping to miracle the day away, wanting to stay here in this bed. 

Why torture me like this? He asked to God Herself. Why give him to me if you can't let me have him? 

"Crowley? Wake up, darling." Aziraphale's voice was light and soothing, it spread warmth through his limbs. 

He gently, almost hesitantly, carded his fingers through his fiery curly hair. Crowley bit back a surprised sob at the contact. The first contact. They hadn't yet touched in this life. He nibbled on his lips and Aziraphale played with the strands. 

"My dear?" 

Crowley mumbled what he hoped was a complaint not a 'please keep going and never stop'. 

"Did you sleep well?" 

He nodded, relishing in the way his fingers traced his face. His fingers glided over his cheekbones and touched the sensitive mark by his ear. Oh, this was too much. He sucked in a hiss. Aziraphale unfortunately took that as a sign of uncomfortablity and removed his hands much to Crowley's disappointment. 

"I think I must be going now. Don't want to spoil the day you have planned." 

"I wasn't doing much. You can stay. If you'd like." 

Stay. Please, Satan, stay. I'd do anything. You're the only thing I look forward to in my damn existence here on Earth. You make it better. I cannot picture roaming this place without you to spend time with, to laugh with, to eat and drink with. To find a companion is to find someone who doesnt make you feel alone. It is someone that you would rather be with than anyone else, a person that chooses to stay with you and to go on adventures with you. A friend. Best friend. That was Aziraphale was to him. 

If he was allowed to touch and to show his affections by taking his hand he would. He could hold him while he fell asleep, coil a long arm around his belly. Snuggle into his warm body. Maybe wrap a leg or two around those thick thighs. Crowley gulped. This was NOT what he should be thinking about. He should be thinking about temptations and demon stuff. Not about angels and what they smell like. As Crowley waited for an answer he thinks about the softness and warmth of Aziraphale next to him. No one takes me apart. No one strips me naked like you. Crowley thinks on this for 6000 years. He is always vulnerable in Aziraphale's presence, wanting, needing, begging to be good enough for him. Demons shouldn't want to taste Heaven on an Angel's tongue. 

"Oh alright," Aziraphale finally said. "I'll stay. But first we should have breakfast. I'm quite hungry this morning." 

"Angel," Crowley mused. "You're always hungry." 

Aziraphale giggled. "I suppose that is true, darling." 

"Why do you do that?" Crowley regretted asking. 

"What?" 

"Call me darling?" 

"I...I'm sorry. Do you not like it?" 

"No. I do. Just wondering why you do." 

"It's an endearment I suppose. Like when you started calling me angel." 

"I only started calling you angel five years ago." 

"And I like it. So you deserve one too." 

"Uh. Thanks. But won't people think things. Darling seems like it's...affectionate. Reserved for...relationships." 

"Oh. I see. Well, aren't we in a relationship? Of some sorts at least." 

"True, I guess. But you don't---" he stopped, fearful of the answer. 

"I don't what?" 

His eyes were so blue when Crowley stared into them. His breath hitched. 

"You don't...oh come on angel you know what I mean." 

"I don't feel for you?" 

"Well, feel in that way." 

"You think I don't?" 

"What?" 

"What?" 

Aziraphale moved closer and Crowley sat up in the bed. There was a moment that passed between them and Crowley felt like the air got sucked out his lungs. He didn't need to breathe but it still hurt. Because this was Aziraphale. This beautiful, bright angel wanted to be close to him, was saying things he wanted to hear so desperately. He licked his lips. 

"Angel, do you feel for me romantically?" 

Aziraphale placed his hand on top of Crowley's, smiling at him. "It seems you haven't been paying attention. I always been careful of my feelings because I was afraid you didn't feel the same, but I did show you in some ways. Surely you understand that. Of course I feel for you. I love you." 

Crowley blinked back tears. "You love me? Oh, Satan! I love you, too. So much. I'm so happy to finally say it out loud." 

Aziraphale was beaming, practically glowing with heavenly light. "If it's not too forward of me, may I kiss you? The humans do it to show love and affection. I was wondering what it might be like to kiss you." 

Crowley groaned unnaturally low. "That's all I've been thinking about for a really long time now. Please kiss me." 

Aziraphale leaned forward and placed his hands on Crowley's face. He closed his eyes and kissed him. There was nothing like this on Earth and in Heaven and Hell. This was them. The two of them. Ying and Yang. Blending and flowing together. Right now in Rome they could be free. To kiss. To touch. To love each other. They laid together under the covers holding each other and tracing each other's skin. They knew the danger of this in years to come, they knew the consequences of their love. But that was later. Later when they sat in the Bentley and the illuminated light from the shops cast over Aziraphale's face, displaying his worry and anxiety over their relationship. (You go too fast for me, Crowley) That would be when Crowley would keep his distance. That their love had to be kept hidden. In Rome they exist and that is all that matters in this story. You know where they end up. 

In each other's arms. . . At least.


End file.
